Danny Williams' Rules for Take Downs, Version 2
by Cokie316
Summary: Danny has an abundance of lists and rules.   And isn't afraid to share them.


_**In my story, Kekoa, near the end Danny mentions his rule book for take downs. A few folks asked to see the rest of the rules, so here they are for all to see.**_

_**For the housekeeping stuff: No SEALs were actually harmed during the making of this story. But Steve may disagree with that statement.**_

_**Contrary to my dreams and wishes, I do not remotely own any of this franchise. I keep checking ebay, but so far, they aren't up for sale.**_

_**And, as always, thanks to Sockie and Rogue Tomato who read and re-read this for me. Mahalo.**_

_**~~~H50~~~**_

_**The Danny Williams' Rule Book for Take Downs, Version 2**_

"Oooff."

"Ow! Get off."

"Steven, tell me that's your elbow poking me… Ow! Ow! Ow! OK, it's an elbow. Get it out of my stomach."

"I repeat. GET OFF ME."

"What the heck just happened?"

"We fell in a sink hole," Steve explained, managing to sit up after Danny rolled off him.

"Well, it's disgusting in here. Did you bring your Boy Scout flashlight so we can see where we are?"

Muted sunlight was filtered from above, shining through the brush and scrub they had fallen through, but they could barely see each other in the shadows below.

"I've got this," Steve replied, pulling his SIG from the holster and hitting the tactical light.

"What the crap is that on the walls?" Williams asked.

"Those are snails. And they live down here, Danny. We're invading their space." He got to his feet, wincing as he took a step.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That face."

"No face."

"I saw it. You made a face. Like an 'ouch, that really hurt' kind of face. What did you do when you fell?"

"Nothing," Steve told his partner, wiggling his left ankle. "Just twisted my ankle a bit. It's fine. Are you OK?" He shined the light on his partner, taking in the dirt-streaked shirt and face and disheveled hair.

"Just peachy. I fell on a squishy SEAL."

"I'm not squishy."

"So you say."

"I do say. So," Steve shined the light upward toward the opening of the hole. "I suppose Kalama is long gone by now."

"If he's smart," Danny replied. "Although his IQ _**is**_ in question after taking off through this jungle like he did. Now… any ideas on how we get out of here?"

Steve continued to shine the light around their small prison. "I'm working on it."

"No cell signal," Williams added, holding his phone above his head. "As if it could be that easy. Check your phone."

Steve reached into his pocket and came up empty, then looked around the dirt floor for his phone. "Must've fallen out when I fell. Do you see it?"

"How many phones does that make now, McGarrett?"

"I don't keep track."

"You have to requisition those, you know. Somebody must be counting."

"Hey, that one wasn't my fault. Would _you_ want a phone after Kamekono's fat tushie had sat on it?"

"Not in this lifetime."

"See? Not my fault. And one got thrown in the ocean. That wasn't my fault either. I can't help that this stuff happens.

"Like sink holes. What the heck is a sink hole anyway?"

"It's a hole in land that results from excessive rainfall dissolving the underlying soil. We're lucky this one isn't filled with water. Some are so deep scuba divers can't find the bottom."

Danny stared at his partner in amazement. "Well, thank you, Mr. Wizard."

"You've never seen a sink hole, Danny?"

"Jersey doesn't have sink holes."

"Right. I've seen them take out city blocks. I'm positive Jersey has sink holes."

"Never. Just one more reason to hate this rock. It's holey. And, by the way, this would rank about a nine in the 'Danny Williams' Rule Book for Take Downs'."

The light came around and shone in Danny's face. "The what?"

"Please quit pointing that gun in my face," he complained, waving his arms around. "And I'm talking about my 'Rule Book for Take Downs', Steven. Every type of take down is assigned a number based on its severity and the probability of me getting injured. This one is a nine."

"But you weren't injured. You just fell in a hole."

"My point exactly. The probability of injury was there. Number 9 is: It's a no-win situation. (a) We lost Kalama and (b) we're stuck in a damn hole. I'd say that's pretty much a no-win. If you want to hear the rest of the rules, I'll fill you in."

Steve turned off the light and reached down to pick up his backpack from where it landed when they fell. Unzipping it, he replied, testily, "This is not a no-win, Danny. I told you I was working on a plan. And I would much rather get out of here than listen to your stupid rules."

"Ah. I see. You have a plan. Imagine my surprise. Now, does your plan perhaps involve digging steps into the dirt to walk up the wall?" he asked, making motions with his hands walking upward. "You got a handy-dandy shovel in there?" He pointed upward and shouted. "Bear in mind, said wall is a good six feet above your head."

"Of course I don't have a shovel," Steve answered, pulling a rope and grappling hook from the pack. The three-pronged hook was unlocked and sprung open. "I have a rope. We can climb hand over hand to the top. Piece of cake."

"Piece of cake, you say. You expect me to shimmy up a rope hand over hand all the way up there?"

"Nah, I'll go first and I can pull you up, if you want," Steve offered. "It's not hard. Now stand back so I can throw this up and over."

"And if that thing falls back down and lands on one of our heads, it's going to hurt. Big time."

"I think I can aim better than that," Steve muttered. "But stand over there out of the way."

"Sure. Since our _**hole**_ is so spacious, I'll just stand over here… out of the way… a mere two feet from where you are throwing." He mumbled under his breath, _"'piece of cake _the man says."

Steve threw the hook upward, tossing it to the side. When it landed, he tugged on his end of the rope.

"Just how do you know that it caught on anything solid?" Danny asked.

"I test it," he replied. Steve tugged once again, not feeling any slack. "It feels sturdy enough." He reached for the backpack and slid it over his shoulders and grabbed the rope.

"You sure about this?"

"Danny, I've done this many times."

"I'm just sayin'… doesn't look the safest way."

"Do you have a better solution?"

Danny hesitated, and then admitted, "Not at the moment."

"Didn't think so." McGarrett grasped the rope above his head and placed his foot against the dirt wall to walk himself up.

"Wait," Danny ordered. "You hurt your foot. Can you do that?"

"No worries. It's fine..."

"No worries? What was that? You fall in a tar pit and end up channeling Crocodile Dundee? Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

Steve had one foot on the wall, one on the floor and stared at his partner. "It's an expression, Danny. It means—"

"I _know_ what it means. Although why you are saying it is rather disturbing. You just sprained your ankle. You have no business climbing a wall."

"Twisted, Danno. It isn't sprained."

"Yeah, we'll see about that after you see a doctor."

"I don't plan to see a doctor because it's fine," Steve assured his partner and began the climb upward until he reached the opening. He realized he was going to have to hang on the rope with one hand while hauling himself out of the hole with the other. Reaching out, he grasped a root at the top of the opening, trying to gauge its strength.

"Careful," Danny reminded him from below, before hearing a laugh from above their small enclosure.

"Take that, Mr. Five-0," Williams heard, and he watched in horror as Steve landed in a heap at his feet, Steve's hands still grasping the rope that had been severed from the hook.

"Steve!" He knelt by his friend's side as McGarrett opened his eyes and blinked up at him.

"Didn't… see that coming," the commander remarked.

"I waited because I knew you would try to get out," Kalama yelled, peering at them from the top of the hole while waving the knife he used to cut the rope.

"Hey!" Danny shouted. "Get us out of here."

The man actually giggled. "Nah, I don't think so. You boys have a nice day. I'll be on my way."

He backed up and disappeared from their view.

"Kalama?" Danny yelled at him once again.

A blood curdling scream answered Danny's call and they heard thrashing as Kalama apparently found his own sink hole.

"Aaahhh," the felon screamed. "Help. help! There's bugs! And I'm bleeding!"

Steve sat up and leaned against the dirt wall and laughed. "Watch out for those sink holes, Kalama."

"Yeah," Danny yelled. "Karma's a bitch, ain't it? And don't think we're going to tunnel through to save you, so I guess you're on your own for a while."

Danny looked back at Steve. "Are you OK? And don't lie."

"Sure. Just got the wind knocked out of me." He leaned forward to take off his backpack.

"Why are you holding your arm like that? Did you break it again?"

McGarrett winced when he took the pack off his left shoulder. "No, I didn't break my arm. My shoulder just hit the ground first." He wiggled his foot again and winced.

"There's that face again. Do we need to get your boot off?"

"No, _**we **_don't need to do anything. If it swells, I wouldn't be able to get it back on."

"So, you're saying it is hurt? If it swells with the boot on, you could have a big problem."

"Nah, it feels all right."

"Of course it does. We'll let the doctor, who you _**will**_ be seeing, tell us how it is. Now, let me see your shoulder." He reached for the SIG and turned on the light.

"Please tell me the safety is still on that," Steve commented.

"I'm not a moron, Moron."Danny pulled Steve's button-up shirt away from his neck and ran his fingers over his partner's shoulder on top of the tee shirt, feeling a tell-tale lump beneath his fingers.

"Aahhh! Enough."

"Well, let's look at it this way. You either broke your collarbone, or you developed a very suspicious tumor on your shoulder overnight." He set down the SIG and began buttoning up McGarrett's shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a sling for your arm."

"Danny, I'm f—"

"You are not fine. So please shut up." He continued buttoning the shirt and then placed Steve's hand through the opening between two of the buttons. "Now keep that there and don't move it."

Williams sat back on his heels. "So, how long before Chin and Kono figure we aren't coming back with Kalama?"

"Not long," Steve replied. "When we don't show, they can GPS the car and that will put them in the vicinity." He made a face when he turned his wrist to check his watch.

"I said don't move that!"

"Yes, Dr. Williams. Whatever you say." Steve sighed and leaned his head against the wall, jerking it back up when a tender spot hit the packed dirt.

Danny immediately saw the pained expression on his partner's face and knelt beside him once again. "Let me see."

"Come on, Danny, just drop it. I'm -"

"Yeah, yeah, you're fine, you're good, you're A-OK. Humor me, Steven. Where's your gun. I want to check your pupils."

"No way are you pointing the SIG in my eyes."

Danny nodded. "You're right. I totally forgot." He took his phone out of his pocket and touched the screen a couple times to activate the light. "My cool phone has a flashlight. Hold still."

Steve's eyes clinched shut and his head whacked the wall once again when he tried to get away from the piercing beam of light in his face. "Get that away. Geez, Danny, are you trying to kill me?"

"No, you seem to be doing that just fine on your own. Look, I turned down the light. And I'm going to look at the back of your head, so you might as well give in now."

McGarrett sighed and bent his neck forward so Danny could check his head. "Ouch. You can look, but don't touch."

"You've got a goose egg, but no bleeding."

"I could have told you that."

"Now open your eyes. I need to see your pupils." After a beat, he moved the flashlight. "They look OK, but you should probably rest. You could still have a concussion."

"I do not have a concussion. And you want me to rest? As opposed to... what?" Steve asked, waving his hand around their confining space. "I left my skateboard in the car."

"Sarcasm," Danny said with a nod, coming up with a plan. "Since you can still use your witty, little mind, you probably don't have a concussion, but I want you to remain awake regardless."

"I'm not planning on taking a nap!"

"You never know with concussions. You could drop off," he snapped his fingers, "just like that. Couldn't have that, so since we'll have to wait for God knows how long in this pit, we might as well use the time productively. For example, I could fill you in on my rules for takedowns so we can hopefully avoid a disastrous situation like this in the future."

"I don't want to hear your stupid rules, Danny."

"My rules aren't stupid. I have researched and catalogued them all and they are very valid. So pay attention. You might learn something."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Do I have a choice in this?"

"Not really. It's for your own benefit, you know." Danny warily settled against the dirt wall beside Steve and began. "Actually this is the 'Danny Williams' Rule Book for Take Downs, Version Two'. Version One was only good for New Jersey take downs. You see, getting perps around here is an entirely different matter. In Jersey, everything is different—"

"So you've mentioned numerous times," Steve interrupted.

"-detectives are respectable, outstanding citizens who wear things like dress shirts, ties and nice shoes. Whereas in this god-forsaken-land, shoes are plastic thing-a-ma-jigs that have little rubber spikes separating your toes that offer no support whatsoever. And the dress code is… well, pretty much two steps down from non-existent."

Steve pointed to his feet. "I wear shoes."

"Oh, no, my friend. You wear boots. Combat boots, I might add. And boots are not shoes."

"Whatever."

"OK, Steven, listen up. Here are my rules. I daresay you will learn something and they may save your life some day."

"I can hardly wait."

"**Rule Number 1 is 'Easy Peasy'**. Trust me, I can count the number of those we have had on one hand. Easy Peasy is when we say, 'Stop, you're under arrest,' and the perp actually stops and doesn't try to run. We don't see that much. And I guess it is because the criminals see your scary face and can tell you are itching to chase them, so they take off just to give you the exercise."

"So," Steve surmised, "Easy Peasy are the stupidest criminals?"

"Well, I wouldn't say the _stupidest_, but they rank up there pretty high."

"OK, what's number two?"

"**Two is 'It's a win-win situation'**. The outcome is good for both sides."

"I don't care if it's good for the perp, Danny. I plan on taking him down regardless."

"That is true, but let me give you an example. When we first met, that day in your dad's garage, that would be considered a win-win situation. We each had our weapon drawn on the other. And we both agreed to put the weapons down—"

"Yeah, on three, I get it," Steve interrupted again. "But we aren't criminals."

"So true, but at the time, I found you messing around a crime scene where you didn't belong. To me, you were potentially a criminal."

"Excuse me. It was my house. _**You**_ were the one who didn't belong. Therefore, I had every right to shoot you."

"Then, I can assure you, that would not have been a win-win situation, Steven!"

"What's four?"

"Three. You're getting ahead of yourself."

"I can only wish," McGarrett muttered.

"**Three is 'That's gotta hurt'**. Those are the criminals who try to run or do something equally stupid and end up hurting themselves. You know, the ones who are so dumb we feel a bit embarrassed for them."

"Like Kalama falling in the pit next door."

"Yes, but I think number four suits him much better. **Four is** '**You're A Moron'**. Here, Kalama had it made. We were chasing him and _**we**_ fell into the pit—"

"Sink hole."

"Whatever, Steven, it is a hole in the ground. Kalama," he added pointing in the direction of the other hole, "genius that he is, could have just walked right back to his car and taken off and disappeared. But, no, he had to hang around and see what we were up to. And look where that got him?" Danny pointed to the dirt wall. "A room with no view."

"It's not so bad, now," they heard from next door.

"Oh, shut up!" Danny retorted.

"But there are a lot of moronic perps out there. Most of them, actually," Steve replied. "Remember Johnny D?"

Danny rolled his head toward Steve and grinned. "Moron."

"True. Did I ever tell you about the ones Kono and I found in Trinidad? Remember when we went in the back door of the embassy? There were two of Chavez's soldiers back there and instead of patrolling the area, they were sitting on the steps, having a smoke and sharing a flask of hooch. They didn't even have their weapons. That's what I call morons."

"I must admit, none of Ochoa or Chavez's men seemed too bright. When we were at the … never mind, that's classified."

"Of course, it is. Even though we came in and got your sorry butt out of there, you still won't fill me in on the details," Danny complained. "You would think that little incursion would have earned me some sort of explanation."

"Only when the file is unsealed," Steve told him. "In about 50 years or so."

"Well. I can hardly wait. Now, where were we?"

"Eight, maybe?"

"Five. You're getting ahead of yourself."

"I still have hope."

"How's the shoulder?"

"Still there."

"And the ankle?"

"Likewise. It's not going anywhere for the foreseeable future."

"Dare I ask how the head feels?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I have a headache. There. Are you satisfied now?"

"No. To be satisfied I would need to be above ground. Preferably someplace within the city limits. Sidestreet would be a perk, but I would even accept sitting in my comfy office chair. Paperwork would be much nicer than sitting in this dark hole next to you. But since I don't have any of that, we have time for more rules. **Five is for you: ** '**Don't piss off an already pissed off SEAL'.** And there are a lot of examples for this one."

"You have a rule for me?"

"Honestly, in some way, they are all about you. Example. Taking down Chavez in the conference room of the embassy. He had been holding the admiral hostage and I could tell your patience quotient wasn't in the tolerant range, aka, already pissed. You had a gun to his head. Chavez should have picked up on your mood, but no, when you had him on the table with his arm behind his back, he began whining that you were hurting him."

"Can we go back and classify him as a moron, too?"

"Definitely a moron. But you had him in a SuperSEAL arm lock and he began to whine. Not such a good move on his part because you grabbed his shirt collar and smacked his head into the table. That had to hurt."

"It was meant to hurt, so I sincerely hope it did," McGarrett replied. "Danny if you could have seen Ali when— never mind."

"Classified. Got it."

"Yeah. And I know two others who shouldn't have pissed me off."

"I'm sure the list is long."

"Well, yeah, but how about the idiots who kidnapped Mary? I really had no patience that day."

"I remember. You stole a chopper—"

"Borrowed. I took it back. Not even scratched."

"Ok, you 'borrowed' a chopper and chased the bad guys. It's probably a good thing they pulled their weapons because filling out the paperwork to explain how they got shot would have been a nightmare."

"But we got my sister back."

"Yeah, Steve, we got Mary. I had no doubt that you would find her."

"So, pissed is good."

"It does have its moments. Now, on to six," Danny continued.

"Half way done. Yay."

"I sense sarcasm."

"Is there a rule for that?"

"On another list. **Six is "On what planet is that possible?"** These are like the perps who get to the end of the pier and jump. What are they thinking? That the Pacific is a fish pond they can cross? And, of course, it goes without saying that if a perp lands in the water, Steve the SuperSEAL has to go in after him."

"That's part of the job."

"Maybe you should just wait until they are tired from swimming and pick them up in a boat."

"Takes too much time. Besides, it's more fun to haul them back in."

"Of course it is. I forgot the 'fun' quotient."

"Are we ready for seven?"

"**Seven is my rule. It's called:** '**Don't pay any attention to my partner'."**

"Hey!"

"Seriously. For instance, we were talking to the guy who had the hostage on the cliff. In the middle of me trying to relate to him, you start questioning my methods. Partners don't _**do**_ that, Steven."

"But I thought we had this 'thing' going. You know, 'good cop/bad cop'. I was playing the bad cop."

"You _**are**_ the bad cop."

"No need to get rude."

"Might I remind you that this morning, I was calmly talking to Kalama before you threatened him? Then he jumped into his car and took off. Had you not glared at him, maybe he would have come in all 'easy peasy' and we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Nah, Danny, I could see it in his eyes. He was going to bolt."

"He's right. I wasn't going to turn myself in," they heard Kalama admit from the next hole.

"Shut up," Danny yelled. "I'm not talking to you."

"I'm bored. There's no one over here to talk to," Kalama complained.

"Number Four, Kalama. Just be quiet," McGarrett yelled. "What's the next one? Are we almost done?"

"You going someplace?"

"I'm thinking. Maybe I can—"

"No, you can't. You are injured. And we have no cell coverage to call anyone."

"If I boost you up on my shoulders, you can—"

"Really? That's your plan? You want to stand on a sprained ankle and boost me onto your broken shoulder? What part of injured do you not understand? May I refer you back to Number 6? On what planet do you think that would be possible? Huh? No boosting. No nothing. You will sit right there until help arrives."

"Have it your way," Steve grumbled. "We'll just have to wait for Chin and Kono to figure out what's going on. It's gonna get dark soon."

"And what happens after dark? Will we be eaten alive by rabid snails?"

"Oh, Gross! Get me out of here," Kalama shouted.

"Quit screaming like a girl," Steve yelled. "The snails won't eat you. But watch out for the spiders. I hear they can get pretty big around here."

"I confess. Anything. Just. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

"**Back to the rules. We're at eight**," Danny said, laughing**. It is:** **'You expect me to do WHAT?' **This is another one where your hairbrained ideas get us into trouble."

"Such as?"

"Such as, leaving a perfectly good car on the side of the road and chasing a moron like Kalama into the jungle. That kind of idea."

"Can I just say that we did get him?"

"No, Steven, you can't say that. _**We**_ got no one. The dumb bunny 'caught' himself. How about the 'shoot first and take names later' concept that you thrive on."

"Hey, that works."

"Or your 'hey, Danny, you're the back-up' before you rush off guns blazing into God knows what."

"You've got my back. I know that."

"A little more warning would be nice!"

"But the bad guy could get away."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"

"Danny, its Five-0's job to bring them in. That's what we do. That's what we're good at doing."

"True. We are very good at it. I'm just saying that maybe a little more planning could go into take downs and we wouldn't be in situations where, oh, let's say we get stuck in a pot hole in the jungle."

"I sense a trend here. Everything is my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what these rules are about, right?"

"No, these rules are about being smart and seeing how things can be done better."

"As in your way."

"Didn't say that either."

"Didn't have to. Now, we have to be almost done. What's the next one?"

"We've already discussed **number nine.** **'Now it's a no win situation**'."

"Right, you said we lost Kalama and fell in a hole. Well, we now have Kalama, so it is no longer a no-win situation."

"You are oh-so-correct. It has now escalated into **Rule Number Ten:** '**Royally Screwed'**. See, the minute Kalama cut your rope, it went to screwed. You broke a bone, reinjured your ankle and conked your head on the floor. We can't get out and have to wait who-knows-how-long to get—"

"Hey? Anybody down there need a lift?"

"Chin!" Steve looked upward, seeing his friends. "See Danny, not screwed. Told you so."

Chin and Kono were peering down at them from the top of the hole, smiles on their faces.

"Hi, guys. Forget to invite us to your camp out?" Kono asked.

"I can't wait to hear this story," Chin added, picking up the grappling hook. "Looks like you tried to escape."

"Yeah, Kalama is in the next hole. He cut the rope and Steve fell. And McGarrett's injured, by the way," Danny told them.

"I'm O-"

"He's gonna need help out of here," Danny yelled over Steve's protests.

"We've got rescue on the way. When we saw the car, we called for back up."

"Hey, Boss," Kono yelled down. "Found your phone. We were able to track it and came right to you."

"See, Danny. We were never screwed."

"Could have fooled me."

"You mean 'royally screwed'?" Chin asked. "Did Danny share his rules with you?"

"Oh, yeah. It's been a fun day."

"Well, sit tight. We'll have you out soon."

~~~H50~~~

"Steven, it is very unbecoming of a SEAL to pout."

McGarrett lifted his head off his hand and gave his partner the death glare. He was seated in a wheel chair in the middle of the E.R. waiting room, wearing a pair of scrub pants and his tee shirt that was now secured by surgical tape which closed the slit where anxious nurses cut it off his body.

Over his loud protests.

Danny was holding the bag with the rest of his belongings and refused to hand it over. He could do without the clothing, but the SIG was in there, and if nothing else, Steve just wanted to hold it. Feel its authority. Imagine using it. Anything to take his mind off his current predicament.

The nurse had just left him in the midst of all the other whining, wheezing, sickly people while she went on her merry way gathering his discharge papers and prescription. The prescription he had no intention of filling. All he wanted was out of this humiliating place. Immediately. If not sooner.

He had arrived in the emergency room via EMS. On a gurney. After they had refused to allow him to walk out of the jungle under his own power. Once here, the doctor assigned to him had spent quite a while reading his file, muttering beneath his breath and glancing at Steve over the top of his glasses before actually checking him out. Finally, after being poked and prodded, he was wheeled down the hall for enough x-rays to ensure he would glow in the dark for the foreseeable future. Once back in the E.R., the doctor finally sat down to talk to him. Steve decided the man was part of a greater conspiracy, one intent on causing him as much embarrassment as possible.

Probably paid off by Danny.

Thankfully, there was no concussion. Steve had known that. He had told Danny there was no concussion. He had shared that knowledge with the EMS techs. He had told the nurses. He had told the doctor.

No one believed him. But the X-rays confirmed his statement.

He felt victorious. He felt vindicated.

Until he saw the x-rays of his foot. The doctor used a pen to show what he termed a "hair-line" crack in the ankle. And then insisted the entire foot and ankle needed immobilization. Dr. Doomsday pointed out that normally an injury of this type would only need a light-weight bandage and crutches to keep weight off the foot. But in _**his**_ case, the quack of a doctor pointed out that with a broken collarbone, he would be unable to use crutches.

So, here he sat, his foot and leg in a splint. But at least it was one he could walk on.

To add even more insult to his injury make that _**injuries**_, the doctor decided, upon reading the file, that it would be in his patient's best interest to immobilize the shoulder with another splint. He explained, once again, that this type of injury was usually kept secure by placing the arm in a sling.

_**But **_a previous doctor had apparently made a notation in the file that stated Steve didn't follow directions well.

Danny, the 'Rules King' probably ratted him out with that, too.

To recap, his foot and leg were in a splint. He had some sort of contraption over and around _**both**_ shoulders that held his shoulders straight. The nurse had pointed out that it fastened in the back so he would need to ask for help to remove it.

As if.

He intended to wriggle out of it as soon as someone took him home. Or chew off both arms trying.

Yes, Steve McGarrett was one sad commander.

With a sore tushie. Before he had left the exam room, the nurse had helped him off the gurney to 'walk' the two steps to the wheel chair. But before he could move, she had him turned around facing the bed, had exposed his backside and had jabbed a long rusty needle into him, assuring him that it would help him "feel better" on the ride home.

She was wrong. No amount of drugs would help him feel "better".

He raised his head once again and glared at his partner. "I take it all back, Danny."

"Oh, he speaks. You take what back?"

"What I said about your rules. It's all true. Perps are morons, falling in a pit—"

"-I thought it was a sink hole."

"Bite me. Perps are morons, falling in a hole does hurt, apparently it_** is**_ possible, at least on _**this**_ planet to piss off an already pissed off SEAL, at least the one SEAL who never wants to listen to his partner _**ever**_ again. Furthermore, sitting in the middle of a crowded waiting room full of whiny, sniveling people _**is**_ considered a no-win situation and this royally _**sucks**_. Do you want to get me started on screwed?"

"Steven, that is not the way my rules should be used. You should calm—"

The look on his partner's face caused Danny to shut up. Thankfully, for his sake, the nurse returned, not with a prescription but with a bottle of pills. "The doctor wanted to make sure you had this prescription filled, Commander McGarrett, so he took care of it in the pharmacy here. Now wasn't that nice of him?"

He had his mouth open to reply but felt Danny's finger's digging into his uninjured shoulder, and heard his partner hiss the word, "Steven" in warning. So, he showed great restraint and clamped his mouth shut and gritted his teeth to keep from giving her his thoughts on the prescription and everything that led up to it.

She released the brake on the chair and pushed him toward the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the breeze on his face. He could do this. All he had to do was make it to his house, slam the door and forget this day ever existed.

When they reached the curb and the waiting Camaro, Steve waved off the nurse's help and all but pushed Danny out of the way to prove he could get into the car by himself.

He was situated in the car and his seat belt was fastened. And he did it all by himself.

By Danny's watch, that feat took four minutes and 14 seconds, mingled with many muttered foreign words that Danny was certain were not in any dictionary.

Headache, butt hurting, arm and shoulder aching, splinted leg on fire, he sat there. Waiting.

"Come on, Danny. Let's move it."

Danny turned to the nurse and shook his head, whispering "sorry" to her.

She patted his shoulder and replied, "good luck… I think you're going to need it."

He nodded and went around the car, opening the driver's door. He set the bag of Steve's belongings in the back seat, slid in, and glanced at the chiseled face staring straight ahead next to him.

Danny started the car and pulled away from the curb. "You know," he began, "there are rules for how to behave while in the hospital."

Steve turned toward him, eyes the color of flint. "Do I remotely look like I want to hear another list of rules?"

"Not really," he admitted. "But rule number 1 is to always play nice with the woman who is holding the needle. Capiche?"

"You should be making up rules for her, Danny. That… witch pulled down my pants!"

"OK, let's think about this. If she had asked you nicely, what would you have done?"

"Told her no way."

"Perchance she knew that, after having observed your obstinate self for the past three hours. Ergo, she chose an alternate route."

"_**Ergo**_, she pulled down my pants."

"And I'm sure she marveled at your finely molded tushie while doing so."

"That was just… wrong," Steve pouted.

"Rule 2 is… "

"No, no and no. I can't take anymore."

"Rule number 2 is: your partner always has your back. Let's go home, Partner."

Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat. "No more rules?"

"I'm done."

"Thank you. Because I would have to jump out of this car and walk the rest of the way home."

"I think there's a rule against that, Steven."


End file.
